your lips are still, your hands are loud
by Nayuki-Bunny
Summary: Fuu doesn't know that he watched her walk away, fingers curling into a fist.


**So dandelion-heart was pushing me to finish our tourney, this is the second to last one before we finish it, and this was the result. I just finished Samurai Champloo a little while back and decided I had to write something for the ending of it (for whatever reason, I actually found the ending to be strangely satisfying...). A lot of the inspiration came from the anime's beautiful end theme "Shiki no Uta," both the animation and the song. Enjoy!**

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Fuu hums to herself so her lips won't stay still.

_If her lips are still they'll whisper to her about running away and moving on but holding back._

She hums of raindrops and dirt and riceballs and burning. Burning suns sinking below inky horizons as she stands feeling cool water around her ankles, not caring if the hem of her kimono gets wet.

She hummed a lot when she walked alone that one time, daring herself silently to turn around and walk back.

_Walk back and laugh to see them (him) still standing there and tell them (him) it was all a very funny joke. Laugh to see his familiar scowl._

She nearly did, you know. Turn around and walk back. But that would defeat the purpose of the after and she mustn't think of what came before anymore, so she doesn't. But she knows it lurks guiltily in her mind in the back with dusty sunflowers and dried up scents.

But there's no need to feel guilty, she insists, moving slightly and watching the liquid ripple. It did what it did what it did and it ended with the strands tied neatly and the debris swept away. There is nothing left over (but that is a half lie).

But would it really be so bad to lie and go back and be selfish?

She knows the answer to this; that's why she made sure she ran as far as she could and then asked herself that question. That way she wouldn't be tempted to reach for his sleeve and stop the world on its axis.

xxx

Fuu watches her hands flutter like distraught butterflies and thinks about how they are quiet.

_Yes, hands can be quiet. She knew somebody whose hands were loud and clashed against metal with sparks dancing in his blade and eyes. _

She remembers a woman she had met some time before (but she scolds herself quickly after, because it is the after she is supposed to be looking at, not the before, remember?). The woman who closed her eyes with steady fingertips so that the two of them were the same in that brief interlude that was her haunting song and plucking strings.

_The haunting song that plucked her heartstrings._

Then she will scoff and toss her head even though there is no one to watch or hear, remembering the lewd comments and gleaming eyes that were not for her.

She tells herself sometimes that her hands are quiet because she holds back too much. She could be just as loud and colorful as the streaked sky above her head (as the rooster that crows boastfully in the morning), but she has a heavy weight that sits on her brow, muttering to her at night and in her dreams.

It mutters to her of what she should do and what she shouldn't, like how she shouldn't be thinking of what could have been and how it was only a "could have" and nothing more.

xxx

Fuu knows very well that what she feels is more than what she says and what she says is less than what she cares to admit. She only admits to what she feels and says so when she is alone like this.

_She admits it while watching the water ripple and thinking that it could have lasted forever, but that too is a "could have."_

She hums of sunflowers, roosters and could haves. She hums it so her lower lip won't quiver. Her hands feel the air. They move slowly and aimlessly so they won't brush away tears.

She lets herself cry because she knows she saw a red jacket and disdainful eyes earlier that day, tossing taunts in a low voice and grinning through a messy curtain of wild hair. She lets herself cry because she knew she could have ran and buried her face into him and smelled his scent. She could have followed the larger footsteps, placing her feet in each one as he walked ahead of her, knowing she was there.

But they are "could have's" and she didn't because she was afraid of what might happen (again; and just when she was ready to let go…) and what should happen. So she stayed where she was and turned on her heel, tilting her face up so the tears would stay back and cursing every step she took. She wished he could have yelled and brought her back, the girl who flipped a coin so very long ago, but he doesn't. And in her heart now she realizes that she didn't expect him to.

_But she wants him to so badly. As badly as she had wanted him to be the one to come for her as she bit down on her lip and tasted blood, feeling wood and rope bite into her skin, the faintest odor of withered sunflowers in the lone beam of sunlight._

She watches the sun slink away and thinks that things happen for a reason, that fate is a cruel joke and "could have" occurs more often than "did."

She laughs at that hollowly, tasting salt and thinking that maybe it's for the better that she has nothing of her own and nowhere to go. Maybe now she can hold onto something that doesn't move.

And so Fuu watches the sun finally hide away completely, taking blood red for her heart and golden for his eyes with it.

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**I know there was so much more I could've written to this, but I honestly gave up on it halfway while writing it and didn't bother changing it after getting a glowing review from my sister. Please review and tell me what you think!**


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